Whenever nothing occurred to prevent it, Ellen was generally with her aunt at dressing-time, and the little conversation that passed between them at such periods frequently rendered Ellen’s solitary evening cheerful, when otherwise it might have been, from her state of health and apparently endless task, even gloomy.  Mrs. Hamilton had observed a more than usual depression that evening in the manners of her niece, and, without noticing, she endeavoured to remove it.  Ellen was bending down to clasp a bracelet as she spoke, and surprised at the question, looked up, without giving herself time to conceal an involuntary tear, though she endeavoured to remove any such impression, by smiling cheerfully as she replied in the affirmative.

“And will it cheer your solitary evenings, then, my dear Ellen?” she continued, drawing her niece to her, and kissing her transparent brow, “if I say that, in the self-denial, patience, and submission you are now practising, you are doing more, towards raising your character in my estimation, and banishing from remembrance the painful past, than you once fancied it would ever be in your power to do.  I think I know its motive, and therefore I do not hesitate to bestow the meed of praise you so well deserve.”

For a minute Ellen replied not, she only raised her aunt’s hand to her lips and kissed it, as if to hide her emotion before she spoke, but her eyes were still swelling with tears as she looked up and replied—­“Indeed, my dearest aunt, I do not deserve it.  You do not know how irritable and ill-tempered I often feel.”

“Because you are not very well, my love, and yet you do not feel sufficiently ill to complain.  I sometimes fancy such a state of health as yours is more difficult to bear than a severe though short illness, then, you can, at least, claim soothing consolation and sympathy.  Now my poor Ellen thinks she can demand neither,” she added, smiling.

“I always receive both from you,” replied Ellen, earnestly; “and not much submission is required when that is the case, and I am told my health forbids my sharing in Emmeline’s pleasures.”

“No, love, there would not be, if you felt so ill as to have no desire for them; but that is not the case, for I know you very often feel quite well enough to go out with me, and I am quite sure that my Ellen sometimes wishes she were not so completely prohibited such amusements.”

“I thought I had succeeded better in concealing those wishes,” replied Ellen, blushing deeply.

“So you have, my dear girl, no one but myself suspects them; and you could not expect to conceal them from me, Ellen, could you, when Emmeline says it is utterly impossible to hide her most secret thought from my mystic wand?  Do not attempt more, my love; persevere in your present conduct, and I shall be quite satisfied.  Have you an interesting book for to-night, or is there any other employment you prefer?”